Somewhere Else
by Feline Ranger
Summary: What if Lister and Rimmer had met under different circumstances on Mimas? What if Lister had been forced to find another way to make money? What if Rimmer had visited a different brothel...? Slash.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Sorry, they're not mine; I just like to play with them...

A/N : The alternative dimension theory has been done to death by those greater and better than me, but nonetheless, here goes. It will help if you've read Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers, but I don't think it's essential.

Arnold Rimmer stared glumly out of the window of the hopper as it bounced down the busy Mimas street. He was beginning a month's enforced sick leave, ordered by his doctor back on Red Dwarf, all because he'd had a bit of an episode during his last exam. He'd written 'I am a fish' all over his answer sheet and then collapsed. Diagnosis – stress; prescription – one month's R and R on the nearby moon.

Rimmer was depressed. Not so much because of the incident in question, but because of having to spend the time off here. Rimmer didn't like Mimas. It was dirty and crowded and always swamped with rowdy people on shore leave. Given the choice he would have preferred to stay on Red Dwarf and simply spend his sick leave reading in his bunk, or brushing up on his Esperanto; but the doctor had been insistent. A complete change of scenery was necessary if Rimmer were to disengage from the stresses of work and make a proper recovery.

So, here he was. Hopping through the grimy throng on his way to the garish tourist hotel where he'd be spending the next four weeks.

His room was everything he'd expected. Cheap and cheerful from the light-fittings to the carpet, but clean and fairly comfortable. He unpacked his one small bag; hanging up his clothes in the empty wardrobe, setting out a few toiletries in the cramped bathroom and finally, placing a book on the bedside table. And that was it. There was nothing else for him to do. He lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Four weeks of this.

Bars and clubs weren't his thing and, even if they had been, he had nobody to go with. Mimas was decidedly low on museums and libraries; or anything of an educational manner actually. The place was too busy and frankly too ugly to enjoy a walk through the city. Rimmer was stranded, with nowhere to go and nobody to talk to.

Despondent, he picked up his book and decided to do some reading before dinner. It wasn't the sort of book he normally read, but given the circumstances he'd decided to allow himself the indulgence. He'd picked it up at the shuttle port where nobody he knew would see him buying it. It was a grey book, not very thick, and on the cover was a black and white photograph of two bare-chested men kissing.

Rimmer had known he was gay since the age of ten and – at least he suspected – so had his family and schoolmates. His family had never spoken of it out loud; to acknowledge such a thing would have been too hideous and shameful for them. But he had seen it in their eyes – the suspicion and disgust at what their son could be. He had done his best to prove them wrong. He had dated women, even brought them home on occasion but it had been no use. They had known, just as he had known, that it was a front and nothing more.

Even to this day the shame of it crippled him. Despite the fact he never planned to see his parents again, he still hid his sexuality from the world. He continued to try – and fail – to date women. He had never shared so much as a kiss with another man; not a brush of fingers or a lingering look. He played out his fantasies in his head, resigned to the fact that was all they'd ever be.


	2. Chapter 2

_Michael ran his fingers over the rippling muscles of Brad's stomach, entranced by their sculpted perfection. He could have been carved out of shining gold marble such was the beauty of his tanned, oiled torso. He let his eyes wander down to the magnificent display between his thighs and his breath caught in his throat..._

Rimmer's stomach growled ferociously. He sighed and put the book down to look at the clock. It was half-past seven. He should really go and find somewhere to eat. Tempting as it was to stay shut in this warm room playing with his dick all evening, he was hungry and he would have to go out for food sooner or later. Outside he could already hear the beginnings of music drifting from clubs and drunken shouting in the distance, and the later he left it the worse it would get. Reluctantly, he put on his coat, tucked his wallet into his pocket and made his way out onto the streets.

He found a small but fairly pleasant restaurant tucked down a side street not far away. The meal was satisfying but lonely, and he saw no need to linger over a coffee or dessert. He paid his bill and left with every intention of returning straight to the hotel, jerking off and going to bed. But as he made his way back, a glowing neon sign caught his eye. **Gorgeous Girls! Beautiful Boys! Sex Sex Sex!**

He sighed. Apart from the pollution and the bars, the one thing Mimas was famous for was its brothels. It was like the Red Light district of Amsterdam, only five times as big. When astros came down for shore leave, the two most important things they wanted were alcohol and sex; and Mimas provided both with abundance.

He was turning to go when something in his brain reared up and kicked its back legs. He was here all alone. For four weeks. He had nobody to report to; no need to account for all his time. He was entirely free to do whatever he liked and no-one would ever know.

In his head he replayed the image of Brad and Michael, the tanned and toned heroes of his novel, cavorting on the king-size futon of Brad's stylish Manhattan apartment. This might be, in all respects, a world away from that glamorous scenario but in his heart Rimmer was well aware that this was the closest he would ever get. He stared at the dark door across the street. One night. One night to satisfy all those wants and desires he'd starved for twenty years. One night to free his soul and be the person he really was. Just one night.

He crossed the street and, taking one final look around to make sure he hadn't been seen, went through the doors and into the brothel.


	3. Chapter 3

He followed a dark flight of steps down to basement level, went through a pair of double doors and found himself in the reception room of the brothel. He was vaguely surprised by what he found. He'd been expecting more neon, walls lined with posters from bad 50's porn flicks and a sticky carpet. Instead he was faced with a show of faded elegance. A dusty chandelier hung from the ceiling and a rich but threadbare red carpet ran through the room and up some stairs on the other side. An old, chipped reception desk of dark wood stood to one side, manned by a smiling blonde woman in her late thirties wearing a red dress. It looked like the slightly sad remnants of a once great hotel.

She trotted over to him, smiling, "Would you like to take a seat, sir, and I'll bring you our catalogue. Would you like a drink?"

"Um...no. Thank you," Rimmer tried not to let his nervousness show. He sank down into a regency-styled armchair and tried not to fidget. The woman brought over a folder covered in faux leather and handed it to him brightly. "You take your time. I'll pop back in a few minutes to see if you've decided, alright?"

"Er, that's lovely. Very good," Rimmer said desperately, feeling his face start to flame. This all felt slightly surreal.

He opened up the folder and flicked straight to the men's section. A selection of photos looked back at him. Most of them seemed to be young men in their twenties, some perhaps even younger. Very few of them looked a day over thirty, but all shapes and sizes seemed to be accounted for. He turned through the pages, scrutinising each image, but for what he wasn't sure. He had to pick one of these men – or boys really – to have sex with and he wasn't sure how he was going to decide. He could only assume that when he saw the one, that's when he would know.

He skimmed over the bleached-blondes and the faked tans. He wanted something purer, something more natural, more real.

And then he saw a pair of eyes. He stared at them, drank them in even before taking in the rest of the picture. Two dark doe-like eyes the colour of bitter chocolate. They spoke to him. Something there connected with him and he knew this was it. This was the one. This was _right_.

"Sir?" He looked up, startled. It was the blonde receptionist. "Have you made your decision?" she twinkled. Rimmer held out the folder, showing her the photo.

"Him," he said simply, a slight catch in his voice. She smiled cheerfully and made a note on her pad, "Excellent. And how long would you like?"

"I'm sorry?" Rimmer stammered.

"An hour? Two perhaps? It's not a busy night, so it's up to you really."

"Oh...I, er....An hour. No, two! Yes, two. That seems about right."

"Very good. That will be fifty dollarpounds then, please."

Rimmer rummaged for his wallet, then produced a crisp note. The woman nodded happily and tucked it away; "Follow me. I'll show you to your room."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: As usual, if you want the real dirty version go to the RDSS.

She led him up the stairs to a long corridor of numbered doors. They stopped at number nineteen and she ushered him inside. "Just make yourself comfortable and I'll send him right up," she beamed. Rimmer nodded mutely and she left, closing the door behind her.

He looked around himself. The room was fairly small, incorporating just a double bed and a small nightstand, with a shabby lamp perched on top. He switched it on and turned off the main light, giving the room a warm glow. There was a tiny bathroom to one side and he ducked in quickly to relieve himself. His heart was thumping madly, he didn't think he'd ever been so nervous before in his life. What was he doing here? This had been a bad idea; maybe he should just leave...

Outside in the bedroom, he heard the door open and close. He closed his eyes, holding his breath for a moment or two. The world had started to go fuzzy. When he felt composed enough, he stepped out into the bedroom.

There was a man standing over by the grubby window in a black t-shirt and jeans, peering down into the street. He turned around when he heard Rimmer tiptoe out of the bathroom and smiled, "Hi,"

Rimmer studied him. He was smaller than he'd seemed in the picture, but that was okay; that was right somehow. He was also a fair bit thinner, which wasn't. But the eyes were right, and the smile. "Cat got your tongue?" he asked playfully. Rimmer detected more than a hint of a Liverpool accent in his voice. He was obviously from Earth.

"Sorry," Rimmer stammered, "It's just I...I'm a little nervous right now."

"It's your first time in a place like this, right?" he said, sympathetically, walking over to him. Rimmer nodded. The guy took his hand gently and led him over to sit on the bed, "It's okay. I haven't been here that long myself."

"What's your name?" Rimmer asked, feeling slightly bolder. The guy tipped his head on one side, mildly surprised. People didn't usually bother to ask. "Dave," he told him, "What's yours?"

"Arnold,"

"Oh," he smiled slightly, "Sorry."

"That's okay. It gets worse. My middle name is Judas." Dave winced,

"Did your parents not like you or something?"

"Not very much," Rimmer admitted. Dave smiled and squeezed his hand,

"Never mind, eh? I like you."

"Yeah, but you're being paid to say that."

"Nothing gets past you, does it?" Dave grinned cheekily and Rimmer couldn't help smiling back.

"So," Dave said, all business-like, "How do you want to do this?"

"Oh, um...I'm not sure," Rimmer said awkwardly, "I've never..."

"I know," Dave said patiently, "Just tell me what you want and we'll go from there."

"No, I mean...It's not just that I've never been somewhere like this before," Rimmer said helplessly, "It's that...Well...I've never done it like this before at all." Dave looked at him blankly. "With a boy," Rimmer explained.

"Ohhh," Dave said slowly, catching on, "I see."

Rimmer looked down embarrassed. He felt a gentle hand lift his chin up, "Hey," Dave said tenderly, "That's okay. Don't worry about it. You'll be fine. It's not _that_ different to being with a woman."

"Yes, but I've only done that once," Rimmer told him desperately, "And I don't think I was very good at it!" Dave stifled a laugh,

"Right, okay. I can see we're going to have to take this slow." He reached over and gently tucked a stray curl behind Rimmer's ear, "You're going to be fine. How long have you known you were...this way?"

"Pretty much all my life," Rimmer said with difficulty. His ear felt warm and tingly where Dave had touched it. "And you never even let yourself try it?" Rimmer shook his head, "I couldn't. I just couldn't..."

Dave looked at him for a moment then tugged softly at his hand, "Come here." Rimmer looked up at him, almost timidly, and saw something he'd very rarely seen in anyone's face before. Kindness. Dave leaned over and gave him a feather-light kiss on the lips. "Was that so bad?" he whispered.

"No," Rimmer replied, "No, it was...it was...nice."

"Take your jacket off."

Rimmer struggled out of it obediently and Dave took it and hung it on the back of the door, then came and sat down beside him again. "You say you've felt this way all your life?"

"Yes," Rimmer nodded.

"So, you must have had thoughts about other men. Dreams. Fantasies."

"Well, yes, but..."

"So show me," Dave whispered. He took Rimmer's hand and kissed it, "Show me everything you've always wanted."

"But..." Rimmer stammered weakly. Dave shushed him tenderly,

"It will be okay," he told him, "I want you to. I want to see what you've been hiding away all these years."

Rimmer gazed at him, trying to make sense of his conflicting emotions. Trying to decide where to start. He reached out tentatively to touch Dave's cheek. It felt warm and completely smooth; he'd obviously just shaved. Dave sat perfectly still, letting Rimmer do the touching for now. Encouraged, Rimmer reached for one of the soft locks hanging down his back and stroked it, feeling a warm rush inside his chest when Dave smiled. It gave him some courage. He moved closer to him on the bed and lightly touched the back of his neck. For the first time Dave shifted slightly, but he didn't seem uncomfortable. He seemed...excited. Rimmer swallowed hard, then drew in a deep breath and leaned forward to gently press his lips to the soft hollow at the base of Dave's throat. He felt him sigh, and at the same time he caught the scent of aftershave lingering on his skin. He started to get hard. Achingly hard.

He moved his lips up along his throat and gently kissed his jaw. This time Dave murmured and Rimmer felt his fingers sliding through his hair. He lifted his head up and they kissed. Dave's lips were warm and sweet and utterly giving, accepting Rimmer's kiss as gratefully as if it were the best present they'd ever had.

When the kiss ended, Dave drew back onto the bed, bringing Rimmer with him. He kissed him again and slid his arms up around his neck, then eased down onto his back, gently pulling Rimmer down on top of him.

Rimmer felt like he was going to explode. The feel of another body against his was so new, so precious, he didn't want it to end. The slow steady revelation of Dave's body, as bit by bit he stripped off his clothes, was like magic. Rimmer explored each naked limb as though it were a whole new world unto itself, delving into every curve and crevice; even kissing the tiny folds inside his elbows and the backs of his knees. He became obsessed. In the golden light from the lamp, Dave's skin was the colour of cafe au lait, his dark eyes showing two glowing sparks of amber within their depths that hypnotised Rimmer with their beauty. He wanted him...He wanted him so badly...

Dave seemed to sense something, because he reached out with one hand to pull open the drawer of the nightstand and retrieve a small tube. "What's that?" Rimmer asked timidly. "Lubricant," Dave explained. He squirted a generous dose into his palm and started to massage it over Rimmer's eager erection. Rimmer whimpered and wriggled under his touch. The feel of his warm tight fist almost made him come right away. Dave tugged him forward, guiding him to the right place.

"Just there..." he whispered to him, "Gently...gently...ah! That's right!" Rimmer let out a euphoric gasp as he eased into him, "God, you're so tight! I've never felt anything like this!" He gazed down at him adoringly, then wrapped his arms round him and held him tight, covering his face with kisses. His hips were moving almost of their own accord, grinding against the warm pillow of Dave's ass with utter abandon. Managing to prop himself up on one arm, he gently cupped the back of Dave's neck, tilting his face up towards him. "I think I'm in love with you," he whispered. Dave smiled and kissed him and the sensation was just one step too far for Rimmer. He came; stars bursting in front of his eyes like a supernova.


	5. Chapter 5

He lay quietly for a few seconds, trembling in Dave's arms, before he could move. "I'm sorry," he said eventually, in a small weak voice.

"What for?" Dave sounded genuinely surprised.

"Well...that can't have been very good for you, can it? I know I didn't last very long..." Dave smiled at him, seeming amused,

"You're sweet. You know that?" he told him. Rimmer wasn't quite sure what to say to that. He rolled off him and took a few deep breaths, trying to recover. Dave rolled onto his side, facing him, "You okay?"

"Okay?" Rimmer laughed, "I've never felt better in my whole life!"

"Well, that's good to know. This job might never be recognised up there with teaching and nursing and what have you, but sometimes it can be surprisingly rewarding."

Rimmer turned over and looked at him for a long time before he spoke again. He was thinking about the photo he'd see in the lobby, where Dave had looked distinctly rounder... and healthier. "How did you wind up here?" he asked quietly. He thought Dave might take offence, but he didn't seem to. "Are you actually asking what a nice boy like me is doing in a place like this?" he said, laughing.

"Well...Yes. I suppose I am."

"It's a long story."

"We've got half an hour."

"Why do you want to know?"

"I just do. I want to know you better."

"Okay."

Dave tucked his arms around a pillow and settled himself more comfortably. "Truth is I got wasted one night in London with my mates, passed out, and when I woke up I was in the burger bar just down the street from here. I don't even know how I got to Mimas. I managed to call my friends back home and tell them where I was – they were all worried sick, they thought I'd been mugged, murdered and dropped in a ditch somewhere – but it didn't do me much good."

"Why not?"

"Do you know how much the fare back to Earth is?"

"No," Rimmer admitted.

"It's eight hundred dollarpounds. And that would only get me as far as the docking port in Houston Texas. After that it's another hundred for the flight back to London and god-knows how much for the shuttle back to Liverpool. You getting the picture?"

"So, you don't have enough money and your friends don't either. At least not enough to get you home."

"Bingo."

"Still," Rimmer said awkwardly, aware that he was in no position to be pointing fingers, "Surely there's a better way for you to be making money than this?"

"Not legally," Dave replied, "I've got no work permit, no ID, no permanent address, nothing. Believe me, this wasn't my first choice. For a while I tried making money by borrowing hoppers from the shuttle port, but it was useless. I must have got mugged about fifty times within the space of a week. Normally hopper drivers can radio each other for back-up, but having nicked one of their carriers I wasn't really able to do that.

'Finally one night I got hijacked and the guy knocked me out. When I woke up I realised he'd dropped me in a part of the city I didn't know and taken the hopper and all the money I'd saved. So basically I was lost and broke and right back to square one. I remember walking around with this thumping concussion trying to work out where I was, and it was getting dark too. And I just gave up. I just sat down in the middle of the street and cried. And then this guy came up to me, really concerned, wanting to know what was wrong, and I told him everything. And he said he could help. He told me I could come and work here for him. Don't get me wrong, I thought it was kind of icky and everything – smeg, I'm not even gay – but at the time...Well, it was just the only way. And it's not so bad here," he added defensively, "I have a roof over my head which is more than a lot of people can say. And I'm getting paid."

"When will you have enough to get home?" Rimmer asked. Dave shifted uncomfortably, "Eventually."

"Meaning?"

"Well...I make about ten bucks an hour. And depending on how much I'm wanted, I can make seventy to a hundred each month." Rimmer decided not to mention that he'd paid fifty for the two hours with him tonight.

"So how much have you saved so far?"

"Well...I have to pay for room and board. And they like us to have new clothes now and then so we look good for the clients..."

"How much?"

"Forty bucks," Dave admitted with a hint of resentment.

"And how long have you been here?"

"Three months."

Rimmer sighed. Dave, like millions of other young men and women since civilisation began, had fallen into the trap. They took the offer because they were desperate for money – for food or a place to stay, or just to feed a drug habit – and so they accepted the spiel they were given. _Hey, it's a great job! You'll earn loads of money, you'll make loads of new friends! And it's only 'til you're back on your feet, right? You can walk away anytime... _

Only you couldn't. Because somehow you never saw all that money you'd earned. Suddenly you were working for your keep and you couldn't walk away because you had nowhere else to go. And, as Dave said, at least you had food and a roof over your head; and more than a few of them would remember all too well what it was like not to have that. So you stayed and you worked as hard as you could, because then surely _someday_ you'd have saved enough to get out of here...Right?

Only for most of them that day never came. More often than not the pimps pushed drugs on you, so you were dependant on them for your next fix. And even if you escaped that, after a while this job took its toll on you. It didn't take long before you were too old, or too used up for the clients. The money you were making tapered off because the punters wanted new flesh. And once that day came when you'd outlived your usefulness, you were out on the streets; chewed up and spat out. And all your savings were probably just enough to keep you alive for maybe a week before you starved or froze – and that's if you didn't blow it all in one go on one desperate fix and end up dead of an OD in an alley somewhere.

Rimmer looked at Dave, at his bright hopeful eyes and already thinning face, and felt something deep in his chest start to hurt. He didn't want that to happen to him. He really didn't. "I wish there was something I could do for you," he said, almost to himself, racking his brains for a way he could help. Dave smiled at him,

"You already did. You picked me tonight."

"I mean something else."

"Well, no offence, man; but you don't look like the kind of dude who can spare a thousand dollarpounds. Which means there's not a lot you can do for me."

There was a bang at the door and Dave sighed, "Time's up. You better get out of here." Rimmer stood up and started to pull his clothes on,

"I want to see you again."

"You know where I am," Dave told him, "I think we've established that I'm not going anywhere for a while."

"Is that okay?" Rimmer asked, "If I come back and see you?"

"Well...Of course you can," Dave rather felt he'd forgotten what the situation was here; why he'd come here in the first place, "I mean, if you've got the money it's not really like I could stop you."

"Oh. Yes, of course." Rimmer went to the door but paused before leaving. He turned back to face Dave, who was still sitting on the bed, watching him. "What's your name? Your last name, I mean?"

"Why?"

"So I can try and help you," Rimmer said simply. Dave smiled at him, almost pityingly. He obviously didn't hold out much hope. Nevertheless...

"It's Lister," he told him, "Dave Lister."

Rimmer nodded. Somewhere deep inside, that felt right too. "I'll think of something," he promised. Dave, for all his smiles, didn't look like he believed him.


	6. Chapter 6

Rimmer made his way back to his hotel in a weird kind of daze. He'd just done the unthinkable. His parents would be so horrified and ashamed if they ever found out. He'd just been to a brothel. He'd just had sex with another man. A sweet, wonderful man...

He shut his door and flopped out onto the bed, scooping the pillow into his arms and remembering the way Dave's body had felt against him; his smooth skin and warm cinnamon smell. He had to think of a way to get him out of that horrible place. He didn't belong there. He belonged...

_He belongs with me._

Rimmer's inner mind scoffed at the sentimental thought; _Get a grip on yourself! Dave is not some innocent little angel – he's a smegging prostitute! A rent boy! He's probably got about a million nasty diseases. And you didn't use a condom just now, did you? God knows what you've caught off him. And besides, he's not even gay, remember? To him you're just another week's rent. Something to be tolerated. One more dirty pervert he can make some money off. Deep down he was probably repulsed by you._

Rimmer swallowed hard. It could be true – all of it – but in his heart he couldn't believe it was so. A visit to the doctor might be in order, certainly, but even though Dave wasn't gay, he hadn't at any point treated Rimmer with disgust or revulsion. He'd been so kind; so understanding. No; he didn't believe Dave was just another cheap piece of trash on the make.

He had four weeks to come up with a way of getting him out of that flea pit and on his way back home, and he was damn well going to do it; or his name wasn't Arnold J Rimmer.__


	7. Chapter 7

A week went by. Rimmer went to a doctor and got the all clear, (although he knew it didn't necessarily guarantee that Dave didn't have anything; it just meant that he'd been lucky), and started to think seriously about formulating a plan.

Financially, Dave had been right. Rimmer just didn't have a thousand dollarpounds to give him; although it was a sign of just how deeply he'd fallen for him that he would have done it in a shot, had he been able. He could afford to see him maybe four more times, but Dave would only ever get a fraction of that money. Any tips he gave him were likely to be confiscated and shared out between the workers, or at the very least reduced significantly by the pimps taking a cut. And quite frankly, even if none of those things were a problem, it would still get Dave nowhere near the amount of cash he needed. Obviously, money was not going to be the way to solve this. He had to talk to Dave; find out some more information.

He went back to the brothel at eight o'clock that Friday; and was a little unnerved to find the place a lot busier than the last time he'd visited. He actually had to queue at reception. "Sorry about the wait," the blonde woman tinkled when he reached her, "I'll just fetch you our catalogue."

"That's okay," Rimmer stopped her, "I know who I want. Could I have two hours with Dave, please?"

"Which Dave?" she asked him, "We have two."

"Dave Lister."

"I'm afraid he's with another client right now," the woman told him apologetically.

Rimmer felt a sudden surge of emotion in his gut. He felt sick and more than a little jealous. It was stupid, he knew it was, but he couldn't help it. He knew well enough what Dave did for a living; it was how he'd found him, for God's sake! It had been foolish and naive of him not to have thought about the fact that Dave would have other customers. He didn't have to like it though. "I'll wait if you don't mind," he told the woman stiffly.

"They'll be another forty-five minutes yet," she told him.

"That's okay."

"Well, if you're sure," she gave him an odd look and shrugged, "Take a seat over there."

He sat straight-backed in a chair to one side of the room while hordes of other men swarmed around him. His brain was tormenting him with images of some bronzed Brad Pitt look-a-like having his way with Dave while he sat here like a fool. By the time the woman finally came over to arrange the details with him and show him to a room – nearly an hour later – he'd worked himself up to such a pitch of jealousy he could barely move.

He was taken to a different room from the last time he'd visited, further down the hall. It was bigger than the other one, and slightly cleaner too, but he didn't notice any of that at first because Dave was already in there, stark naked and rubbing himself down with a small towel. He'd obviously been given time to shower before entertaining another customer. He smiled warmly when he saw Rimmer, but there were dark circles under his eyes and he looked tired. "Hey, it's you! I wondered whether you'd actually come back."

"I said I would," Rimmer replied.

"No offence, man, but I hear that a lot," Dave told him, "And more than half of 'em I've never seen again."

"Well, I'm different," Rimmer said, "You can trust me."

"I'll remember that," Dave said, smiling.

Rimmer approached him shyly, "How...how have you been?"

"Um...Fine, I suppose," Dave seemed a little bemused, "And you?"

"Oh, fine, fine. I've, er...I've been thinking about you an awful lot," Rimmer admitted, blushing. "Well," Dave said kindly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "You don't have to think anymore because you've got me all to yourself for the next two hours."

"No, you don't understand," Rimmer told him hurriedly, "I don't want sex."

Dave blinked. "What?" he said blankly.

"It's not that I don't want to," Rimmer said desperately, "I mean, I think you're incredible and last time was...well, it was the best night of my whole life. But I know you're not gay and hell, even if you were I doubt if you'd want me. And you look so tired as it is..." Rimmer realised he was babbling and he stopped himself. "I just don't want to use you the way all those other gits do," he said slowly, "I don't want to hurt you or make you do anything you won't enjoy. But, if it's okay," he looked down embarrassed, "I would like to just hold you for a while."

"If it's okay with me?" Lister looked like he might burst out laughing, but a combination of not wanting to hurt Rimmer's feelings and simple bemusement held him back. "I don't understand," he shook his head, "Why would you come here and pay this kind of money just for a cuddle?"

"I just wanted to see you. To talk to you and, well, just be with you. I meant what I said the other night; I think I'm in love with you."

Dave stared at him, astounded, "You were right," he said weakly, "You really are different."

"So...Can I?" Rimmer asked tentatively and at that Dave did start laughing,

"You can do whatever you want! You've paid for the privilege! But if a cuddle is what you want, then I'll happily oblige. Come here, then." Rimmer smiled and joined him on the bed. Sitting back, propped against the pillows, he wrapped his arms around Dave's naked body and held him close against his chest. "You really are a very strange man, Arnold," he heard him say, not unkindly.

"Call me Arnie," he replied softly.


	8. Chapter 8

"You know," Rimmer whispered tenderly into Dave's ear after a while, "You can go to sleep if you want. I can see you're tired and, well, I know you were with someone else before I came in."

"Yeah. It's busy tonight," Dave said wearily, "But I suppose I should be grateful. It's all money, right?"

"It won't be this way for much longer," Rimmer said, "I promise you." Dave smiled, humouring him, "I forgot. You're going to take me away from all this, aren't you?"

"As soon as I think of a way," Rimmer said seriously.

"I don't mean to sound sceptical, man, but the dude who was in here before you just now is a TV producer – at least that's his story - and he's been promising to make me a star for about two and a half months now. And I'm still here."

"We agreed I'm different, remember?" Rimmer said, slightly hurt.

"You certainly are that," Lister admitted, smiling.

Rimmer felt depressed. It was bad enough imagining Dave's previous client as a gorgeous hunky type without hearing that he was a TV producer and a regular customer. "Is he nice to you?" he asked, not sure why he felt the need to rub salt into this wound. "Depends how you look at it," Dave said, "He's full of sweet talk but once the clothes come off he's a bit of a creep. Not aggressive or anything, just a bit...yeuch." Dave shuddered to illustrate the point, "He probably went past you on the way out. Dark blue suit, walrus moustache?" Rimmer had seen him. Piggy eyes and not so much a beer belly as a whole brewery belly. Somehow that made him feel even worse than if it had been somebody painfully handsome. "He must really like you to keep coming back," he remarked guardedly. Lister snorted,

"He's full of shit. I think he's boned every guy in this place at least twice and he feeds us all the same dumb lines. He'll probably still be coming here swearing to make us famous when he's seventy-two and bald as a smegging coot."

"It doesn't matter," Rimmer said, "You won't be here to find out."

Dave turned to face him, "You really believe that, don't you? You really think you can help me."

"I don't know how yet," Rimmer admitted, "But I promise you I will."

"That seems like a fairly big promise to make," Dave told him, "It might be better for us both if you just promise to try." Rimmer shook his head,

"No deal. Trying is not good enough. I want you safely out of here and on your way home by the time my shore leave is over."

"And when's that?"

"Three weeks. Well...just under."

Lister shook his head, sceptically; "No way. Not a chance, man. You'll never get hold of that kind of money in three weeks. You're insane to even think it."

"Maybe there's another way," Rimmer mused; "Do you get time off at all?"

"Well, not exactly. I mean we're allowed out and everything, but they like us to try and stick together; and they usually send Charlie or someone else along to keep an eye on us."

"Charlie?"

Dave raised an eyebrow, "You can't run a place like this without some muscle handy. Clients can get funny sometimes. Shit happens. They're behind the scenes mostly, but they're there."

"And they send them out to watch you whenever you go anywhere?"

"It's for our protection. You know, just in case we bump into any old clients with a grudge...or something worse. We get some really freaky types in here now and then. It's just to be on the safe side."

"Uh-huh," Rimmer had his doubts but decided not to press it, "But you'll always be here if I come by at this kind of time? If I need to speak to you?"

"Or anything else," Dave grinned and chucked him lightly under the chin. Rimmer smiled and blushed. He intended to keep to his self-enforced morality and not use Dave as a sex object – well...not again, anyway – but he also had no illusions about how difficult he was going to find it. He wanted him so much, every moment of every day...But, no. He had to be strong.

There was the familiar bang on the door and they both sighed. "You know what that means," Dave said, and Rimmer thought he sounded very glum.

"I'll come back as soon as I can," he promised, getting dressed, "I'll try and be here a week from now. And hopefully I'll have a plan."

"Right," Dave said, with maybe just a hint still of scepticism. Rimmer looked at him, and the sadness in his eyes made something inside him ache. Oh, what the hell... "Is it okay if I kiss you goodbye?" he asked awkwardly. Dave smiled. He wasn't sure he'd ever quite get his head round this guy but, odd though he undoubtedly was, he was also incredibly sweet. "Sure." He tilted his face up and Rimmer leaned over to give him a chaste but tender kiss on the lips.

"Was that okay?" Dave asked teasingly when they drew apart.

"I think," Rimmer said softly in reply, "That with that I can actually bring myself to leave."


	9. Chapter 9

Rimmer spent days racking his brains in his hotel room, pacing up and down, trying to come up with something brilliant. His usual way of thinking around problems – the 'What would Napoleon do?' approach – had left him with nothing; as had the 'What would Julius Caesar do?' approach. Eventually he had been forced to recognise that no amount of military tactical know-how was going to help Dave; since when he'd been a little stuck.

The bulk of the problem, the real _kicker_, wasn't how to get him out of the brothel. He had a million ideas on that score; ranging from climbing out of a window, to marching in there and mowing everyone down with a shotgun. The real problem was what would happen afterwards. Dave would need money and a place to go, and so far Rimmer hadn't come up with a way of providing either of those things. He was starting to get worried.

His novel lay half-open and unfinished on the bedside cabinet. He hadn't picked it up since his first night with Dave. Brad and Michael could go hang; Rimmer had found something a hundred times more wonderful and exciting, even if the only sex that took place was in his head. He almost suspected that might be half the problem.

His feelings for Dave had become so intense that he wondered if it might be hindering rather than helping his thought process; that perhaps he was overlooking some important factor that could change everything because of the way he felt about him. It was also putting him under enormous pressure. In most areas in his life Rimmer had been a failure. In his social life, his work, his relationships; let's face it, before he'd come here, he'd even sucked at being gay. But now, suddenly, failure was not an option. He _could not_ blow this. He could not let Dave down. In his mind, there was no alternative. He _had_ to make this work. And he didn't know how.

He was plodding his way sorrowfully down the street to see Dave on Friday night, both angry and ashamed at himself that he would have to admit to him that he still hadn't thought of anything, when a poster caught his eye. He stopped. And stared. That was it! It was so obvious he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before!

He ran back to his hotel room to grab his camera and a pad of paper, and this time as he walked down the street, he was practically dancing.

As he was waiting in reception to see Dave, he heard a commotion upstairs. There seemed to be a lot of banging around and shouting going on. Rimmer and the others milling around, including the woman at the reception desk, looked up, perturbed. Suddenly there was a yell and a half-naked man came crashing headfirst down the stairs. He lay moaning at the bottom of the steps, but struggled up onto his feet as he heard footsteps coming down. A broad-shouldered stubbly man stomped down the steps and the naked customer leapt at him, growling angrily. Two swift punches to the stomach left him crumpled on the floor again and the burly guy picked him up and dragged him without ceremony to the double doors that led up to the street. He came back a few minutes later dusting his hands. The blonde woman beamed at him, "Thank you, Charlie." The man nodded and stomped off again without a word.

Rimmer let out his breath. So that was Charlie. He decided to make a point of not doing anything that might piss that guy off. It occurred to him that the guy causing trouble might have been with Dave and he waited anxiously for a few minutes until he was sent up.

Dave was sitting cross-legged and fully-clothed on the bed, and seemed unharmed. "Are you okay?" Rimmer checked anxiously, "I saw a guy being thrown out downstairs..."

"Oh, I'm fine. It was nothing to do with me," Dave said, "I was out of the way in the kitchen having something to eat. I think he was with one of the girls and started getting a bit rough. No harm done." Rimmer sighed with relief,

"That's good."

Panic over, he smiled. "I've got a request for you tonight."

"Is that so?" Dave raised a wary eyebrow.

"It's nothing bad," Rimmer promised, taking his hand and pulling him gently off the bed and over to the wall, "I just want to get a picture of you."

"A picture?" Dave shrugged, "Hell, it's not the weirdest request I've ever had. Clothes on or off?"

"Most definitely on, I think," Rimmer told him. He got him to stand in front of the wall, so it formed a white background and took a few shots. He viewed them on the back of the camera and nodded satisfied, "One of these ought to do it..."

"Do what?" Lister asked curiously, peering over his shoulder to see the pictures.

"I don't want to tell you just yet," Rimmer said guardedly, "In case it all goes wrong. But I think I've got a plan."

Dave seemed astounded; "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Rimmer confirmed, "But I need to know a few things first." He pulled out his notepad and pen. "What's your date of birth?"

"I don't know." Rimmer looked up,

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean I don't know," Lister replied testily, "My parents abandoned me when I was a baby. They left me in a pub. I don't know when my real birthday is."

Rimmer was horrified, "That's awful!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Lister muttered, "Anyway, they worked out that I was probably born sometime in mid-October. Say the fourteenth. 2155."

Rimmer did the sums in his head, "You're 24?"

"Yep."

Rimmer jotted it down, "Place of birth Liverpool?"

"Far as I know."

"Great," Rimmer pocketed the pad and pen with a triumphant smile, "That should just about do it."

Lister tipped his head to one side, "Are you sure you're not going to tell me what this is all about, man?"

"Not yet," Rimmer was adamant, "I don't want to get your hopes up. If all goes well, I'll be able to tell you next week."

Lister shrugged, "Fair enough. So what d'you want to do now then?"

Rimmer knew very well what he wanted to do now, but he wouldn't let himself. "Just sit and cuddle for a while, I suppose," he said. He couldn't stop a treacherous hint of sadness creeping into his voice. Dave gave him the look of slightly bemused affection he was becoming used to, "You know, man," he told him seriously, "Wanting to have sex with another guy doesn't make you a bad person. You don't have to do this to yourself. This is my job, after all. And I know you want to..."

"Yes," Rimmer admitted, "And I know you don't. Really, it wouldn't be any good for me anyway, knowing that you weren't enjoying it. It's enough just to be with you."

"Is it?" Dave challenged softly.

"Yes," Rimmer replied determinedly, "When you love someone that's enough."

Dave looked touched, but a little unhappy; "I'm guessing you've never seen _Moulin Rouge_, have you?"

"No," Rimmer said. Just a few weeks ago it was the sort of thing that would have sent him screaming from a room, disgusted at the sappiness of it all. Now he wasn't so sure. "Maybe you should. Bad things happen to guys who fall in love with prostitutes," Dave warned sadly.

"I guess you've never seen _Pretty Woman_," Rimmer retaliated, and the smile that lit up Dave's face made him feel like the most incredible person who'd ever lived. "Anyway, I can't stay very long tonight. I have to go put the plan into action," he said, squaring his shoulders manfully; he was still floating on the life-affirming boost of Dave's laughter.

"Okay."

It might have been wishful thinking on Rimmer's part, but for a moment he thought Dave looked disappointed.


	10. Chapter 10

After saying goodbye to Dave, Rimmer left the brothel and went on a search for a seedy bar. He knew, considering the area, that he wouldn't have to look far. He was right. Only a couple of streets away was a garish red neon sign , proclaiming the grubby building it fronted as _The Regurgitating Robin_, together with a flashing motif of a small bird vomiting over some baby chicks. This looked like the right kind of place.

Inside, the bar was as charming as the name had promised. Half the stools were broken and the walls looked greasy. A fuzzy vid-screen above the bar was showing the Channel 27 news; a story about the spread of menfluenza. As the name suggested it was a virus made up of combined meningitis and influenza bacteria that was sweeping the solar system right now because of over-crowding. Apparently the authorities were warning that if the problem got worse, people may have to start wearing surgical masks when they went out, like when the SARS virus had struck Asia in the last century.

The regulars turned to stare as Rimmer scurried in, his head down. He swallowed hard. If this didn't go well, he was going to be in serious, serious trouble. The kind of trouble that ended with bodies being found in garbage heaps. His natural coward's instinct was to turn and run before anyone started to wonder how much money he had concealed in his jacket, but then he thought of that icky TV producer, imagined him walking up to the reception desk and asking for Dave; and he knew he had to go through with this. He sat down at the bar.

"What'll it be?" the barman grunted. Rimmer scanned the shelf hopefully for a bottle of white wine. There wasn't one. "Shot of whisky, if you please," he settled for, glumly. The barman tipped out a measure of something dark and sticky into a glass and shoved it at him; "Three dollars."

Rimmer pulled out a twenty and toyed with it, "I wonder," he said vaguely, "If you could help me?" The barman eyed the note,

"With what?"

"Well, I rather like to travel, but right now I seem to find myself without sufficient documents. Perhaps you could give me some advice." One side of the barman's mouth started to tip up, "Well that would depend on what kind of documents you required."

"A passport perhaps?" Rimmer suggested.

The barman grinned and nodded. "Hey, Anderson!" he shouted suddenly. A face in the shadows looked up. The barman nodded to Rimmer, "Fella here interested in your field of expertise."

Rimmer slid the note across the bar as Anderson stood up and made his way over. He took the stool next to Rimmer's and stared at him hard for a few seconds. Rimmer poised himself to run. "Whaddya need?" Anderson asked eventually in a gruff voice. Rimmer relaxed slightly. "I need two passports," he said, "And they need to be exactly the same except for the picture." He pulled out his camera and pressed the print button. Two shimmering, digitised images popped out. One of him and one of Dave. He handed them to Anderson who gave them a cursory glance before tucking them into his shirt pocket. "These are the important details," Rimmer gave him the information he'd gotten from Dave earlier that evening, "Anything else, like the issue date or employment details, you can make up as you please."

"When d'you need 'em?" Anderson asked.

"Within two weeks. Can you do it that fast?" Rimmer asked anxiously. Anderson snorted, "You can have 'em day after tomorrow, if it suits you."

The time had come for the vital question, "How much?"

"Thirty dollars each. Pay half now, half when you pick 'em up." Anderson told him. Rimmer held back a sigh of relief. He'd been expecting much more. Some of these traders would charge you $150 for just one if you – or they - were desperate enough.

Rimmer handed him a twenty and a ten and he nodded briskly. "Be here same time Sunday night with the rest and I'll have 'em ready for you."

"Excellent," Rimmer beamed and knocked back his whisky. He felt ridiculously triumphant. He'd successfully initiated an illegal business transaction and made Dave laugh, all in one day. He felt invincible!

He banged his empty glass down on the bar with a satisfied sigh. "Gentlemen," he nodded to Anderson and the barman, "Have a splendid evening." And then he turned to sweep out and fell over.


	11. Chapter 11

It was Monday morning. Rimmer stood outside the JMC Recruitment Office and stared at the poster on the door. 'JOIN THE CORPS AND SEE SPACE!' it proclaimed cheerfully, showing two beaming officers clothed all in white. Rimmer snorted and pushed open the door. The man inside looked up from his desk with a smile, "How can I help you?"

"Hi," Rimmer said, "My name's David Lister and I'd like to sign up for a post on _Red Dwarf_."

Twenty minutes later, Rimmer had filled out all the forms they'd thrown at him about his qualifications, medical history and personal goals. He'd bullshitted it all without much difficulty. They didn't care about qualifications unless you had a degree in something specific like Astro-Navigation, which he was fairly certain Dave didn't, he seemed essentially fit and healthy, and he'd filled the personal spaces with the usual muck about team-work and motivation that all companies liked to hear.

He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of this sooner! Not only did it solve both Dave's problems of money and a place to live, but the ship was heading back to Earth! And the icing on the cake was that it meant Rimmer would still get to see him!

"Well, Mr Lister, this all seems to be in order," the interviewer smiled brightly, shuffling through the forms. Rimmer smiled blandly and said nothing. "Er...you say here you particularly want a position on Red Dwarf," he continued, squinting at one particular page, "Why's that?"

"I've got a friend already on board," Rimmer said, "It's nice to have a familiar face around when you're somewhere new." A thought struck him, "In fact, I was wondering whether it would be possible for us to share a bunk. I know for a fact he doesn't have a roommate at the moment."

"Oh, yes, well...er...I don't see why that should be a problem," the man said, "I could certainly look into it. Now, do you have some form of ID on you?" Rimmer's heartbeat quickened, "Yes. I have my passport here somewhere." He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to the man, his palms sweating.

It should be okay. It was an excellent forgery. After picking them up on Sunday night he'd taken them back to his hotel room and compared them to his own official passport and had been unable to spot anything suspicious. It would be fine. It would all be okay...

"You don't have much of an accent," the man remarked.

"I'm sorry?" Rimmer asked blankly, his heart leaping into his throat.

"You were born in Liverpool, weren't you?" the man smiled, holding up the passport, "I had family there a few years ago. My mother's side."

"Oh, yes," Rimmer smiled back weakly, "Yes, my parents moved us to IO when I was still fairly young."

"I see," the man smiled cheerfully, "People move around so much these days. It's a shame really, in some ways."

"Mmm..." Rimmer nodded, smiling madly.

The interviewer handed him back his passport and stamped a few sheets of paper, signing one corner and gesturing for Rimmer to sign the other, "Just sign here, Mister Lister, and you're a registered member of the JMC and Red Dwarf. Third technician, clearance code Lister D 000169. Just let me call them up about that bunk. What did you say your friend's name was?"

"Rimmer. Arnold Rimmer."

As the man patched through to the ship, Rimmer signed the forms. He'd done it! He really had! He'd done something important and not screwed it up! He was so intent on his inner gloating that he barely heard the conversation going on right by his ear. Eventually the man turned back to him with a smile, "There we go. They've marked you down to share a room with Mister Rimmer. Now you won't have to worry so much about getting to know people." He handed Rimmer the top sheets of the forms he'd signed, "Just show them this at the gate and they'll wave you through. You'll receive proper photo identification during your on-board induction."

Rimmer stood up and shook his hand, "Thank you very much for your help," he grinned.

"Not at all, Mister Lister. I hope you enjoy your time with the JMC."


	12. Chapter 12

Rimmer waited in agony for the evening to roll around. He'd stashed the papers in a safe place back at his hotel room and now he was itching to see Dave and tell him the good news. Now all they had to do was to formulate a plan to get Dave out of the brothel and away from the eagle-eye of his so-called 'protectors'. If he was eager enough to get out, maybe he would come and stay with Rimmer at the hotel...

He forced himself to eat dinner but he was so excited he could barely swallow his food. He kept going over in his head the moment he would reveal to Dave his ingenious plan, and how wonderfully impressed he was bound to be. _God, Arnie, I never realised how brilliant and resourceful you are..._

By the time he made his way down the road to see him, Rimmer had developed an actual swagger.

The woman at the reception desk recognised him when he came in, "Hi there," she seemed a little flustered, "I'm afraid Dave's not taking any customers tonight. Would you like to see somebody else?" Rimmer was taken aback,

"Why isn't he seeing anybody?"

"He's sick," the woman explained, "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about; he's probably just picked up a bug. We get that a lot here. You understand." Her voice was calm, but she was definitely nervous about something and Rimmer noticed.

"Is he very ill?" he asked anxiously.

"No, no, no..." she shook her head, "He'll be fine. He just needs some rest. He'll be right as rain after a few days in bed."

Rimmer felt worry starting to drop in heavy dollops into his stomach. Even she didn't sound like she believed it, and she was trying pretty hard to convince herself. There was something wrong here.

He couldn't leave things like this. He had to know what was going on. He decided to take a risk. "If you don't mind," he said politely, "I'd quite like to take a look at him. I'm a doctor, you see. Maybe I could help." She looked up in surprise,

"You're a doctor?"

"Yes; a medical officer," he lied smoothly; "If you let me check him over there may be something I could do." She looked doubtful,

"I don't know..."

"I'd fully expect us to be chaperoned, of course," he said, "But I'd like to help if I could."

The woman bit her lip and hesitated for a second; but in the end her anxiety about the situation seemed to win out. "Okay. If you just follow me..." She led him down a corridor he'd never seen before, past a smoky room with a loud TV blaring and a large kitchen with the sounds of gossip drifting out. To one side was another door which she knocked at timidly. "Yeah, come in," an aggrieved sounding voice said. They went in.

It was a smallish room with a battered wardrobe full of boxes in one corner and a dusty sofa in the middle. Dave was lying on the sofa under a blanket with a skinny brunette girl tending to him. His breathing sounded shallow and laboured. A middle-aged man with dark hair and a cigarette was standing irritably over them both, frowning. "What is it, Rita?" he snapped at the blonde woman who'd brought Rimmer in, "And who's he?"

"He's a doctor," she said, "He wanted to see Dave and I thought it would be for the best."

"Hey, doc," the man held out a hand, "I'm Rudolph. I'm the boss of this mad-house, would you believe." Rimmer shook his hand and tried to hide his distaste,

"How do you do?"

"You did your good deed, Rita, now get back out the front, will ya? Atta girl," Rudolph said impatiently. Rita crept out. "So you wanna examine the patient?" he asked, stepping aside. "Yes, I think I should," Rimmer replied, trying to sound professional. He bent over Dave and called to him softly. No reply. He placed the back of his hand against his forehead and was shocked at how hot he was. He looked up at Rudolph, "He's got a very high fever. How long has he been like this?" Rudolph shrugged and looked at the girl. "He started feeling sick last night," she supplied; "He couldn't get out of bed this morning so we moved him down here to keep him away from the others. He's been like this all day. I don't think he's come round once. We've tried to get him to eat but..." she shrugged helplessly.

"I see," Rimmer said thoughtfully, "Have you given him any painkillers? Asprin? Something to try and..."

He paused. He looked hard at Dave. At his neck just above the collar of his shirt. He bent over him and lifted up his t-shirt. A dark, purple-red rash was spreading over his chest. Dave had menfluenza.

"Oh my God!" he jumped up, "You need to call for an ambulance now!"

"Joanie, do what he says," Rudolph snapped and the girl ran out. "What? What is it?" he asked Rimmer.

"You don't know what this means? Don't you watch the news?" Rimmer demanded. Rudolph looked at him blankly. "It's menfluenza!" Rimmer yelled at him, "It's an epidemic right now! We need to get Dave to a hospital and isolate anyone who's been in contact with him since last night. If there's the slightest sign that they're ill, they need to go to a hospital too!"

"Christ, really?" Rudolph was shocked.

"Yes, really! And if you've got any sense you'll close this place until you're certain everyone's clean!" Rimmer bundled the blanket around Dave and lifted him up into his arms. "Call Rita and tell her to clear reception. I'm taking Dave up to be ready for the ambulance." Rudolph pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and was already talking to Rita when Rimmer carried Lister out of the door.


	13. Chapter 13

The paramedics let Rimmer come along in the ambulance; mostly, he suspected, because they wanted to give him a blood test and make sure he wasn't infected as well. One of them had stayed behind at the brothel to check people over and look for any symptoms and the four medics remaining in the ambulance were all wearing surgical masks. Dave still hadn't come round.

Rimmer had never felt so worried in his life; not even over his various exams. He was all too aware that menfluenza could be – and quite often was – deadly. The onset was usually sudden and its spread through the body quick. Although the girl had told him that Dave had only started feeling sick the previous night, from the reports he'd seen on the TV Rimmer knew that the rash was a sign that the virus was fairly advanced. He wasn't afraid for himself; Dave had seemed perfectly healthy last time he'd seen him, which meant he'd probably contracted the virus sometime over the weekend and Rimmer was unlikely to have caught it. But the thought that Dave might be dying was more frightening to him than anything he'd ever faced before. He couldn't bear the thought that the only person he'd ever loved, the one person who had changed his life forever, might be about to be snatched away from him just as he'd thought everything was going to work out for them.

He held back his tears as Dave was given an injection of some kind of antibiotic. Lying against the stark white of the stretcher he looked so weak and frail; Rimmer wanted so badly to hold him, as if he could somehow squeeze the health and vitality back into him by virtue of his love. But instead all he could do was watch helplessly while the paramedics buzzed around him as the ambulance sped on through the dirty Mimas night.


	14. Chapter 14

Rimmer was kept in isolation at the hospital overnight while they awaited the results of his blood test, but around ten a.m. the next day a nurse came and informed him he was clean and was ready to be discharged. He immediately went to the reception desk to enquire after Lister.

His heart was thumping sickly in his chest. He had no idea what had happened to Dave once they reached the hospital and had stayed awake almost the whole night worrying about it. He was all too aware that it might not be good news. All the woman at the desk could tell him was that Dave was still in a quarantined area of intensive care, but she promised to let the doctor know that Rimmer wanted to see him.

He waited for a ridiculously long time in intensive care – almost four hours - before someone finally came to speak to him. The doctor explained that Dave was still sliding in and out of consciousness, and although his temperature had dropped slightly he was still very ill.

"We've been giving him a combination of antibiotics and steroids," she said, consulting her clipboard, "But, at the end of the day, that's all we can do. It's just going to come down to whether or not the body can shake it off, I'm afraid."

"What are his chances?" Rimmer asked anxiously.

"It's impossible to say," she told him gently, "He's at a good age to be able to fight it; not too young and not too old. But menfluenza is a very potent bacterium, as I'm sure you're aware, and it's not uncommon for it to overcome even people who've been previously very healthy. We're just going to have to wait and see."

And so that was what Rimmer did.

Every day he came back to the hospital and every day he was told that nothing had changed. The deadline for his shore leave was looming, but he knew in his heart that he couldn't leave without Dave. If theory he could, if necessary, always send up a message telling them that he had a friend in hospital and would catch up with the 'Dwarf via shuttle later on. It wasn't unheard of for people to miss the shuttle for whatever reason and have to catch up at a later date, but it did mean it might be that much harder to get Dave away from his unsavoury associates with sufficient speed. They might have to wait weeks for another shuttle that would take them to Red Dwarf, which meant that Dave would either have to go back to the brothel or spend that time in hiding with Rimmer.

Assuming that Dave was actually going to live, of course.

One evening as Rimmer left the hospital, feeling tired and depressed, he saw a figure in the car park outside the main entrance, leaning against one of the vehicles and smoking a cigarette. Although it was dark, he recognised him at once. It was Charlie.

Rimmer put his head down and kept on walking, pretending not to have noticed him. He didn't think Charlie would recognise him from the one brief occasion he'd seen him at the brothel, but he didn't want to risk it either. _Maybe he just came to visit Dave and see how he was_; he tried to reason with himself. Yeah, right. Rimmer didn't believe it for a second. They were watching the damn hospital to make sure Dave didn't do a runner. They'd actually staked out the entrance so that when Dave got out of there – if he ever did – there would be Charlie waiting. _I'll give you a lift back, shall I?_ All very nice, very caring. And there wouldn't be any real way for Dave to say no.

Rimmer wished he could kill the bastard and the even bigger bastard who'd sent him, but his only choice was to walk on by and pretend he'd never seen him before in his life.


	15. Chapter 15

They had three days before Rimmer's shore leave would be finished and Red Dwarf would be leaving its orbit around Mimas. Charlie was still watching the hospital. Lister was still in intensive care. And Rimmer was starting to lose hope.

This particular morning he spotted Charlie lounging insolently against the wall outside and resisted the urge to run up to the man and smack him in the mouth; instead he trudged past him and through the large double doors at the hospital's entrance. He made his way up to Lister's room almost on auto-pilot. He'd made the journey so many times that his feet just carried him along now without any help from his brain.

Rimmer was exhausted. All the nights of lying awake worrying about Dave and mostly crying himself to sleep had taken a heavy toll. He was pale and drawn and his eyes were set deep into dark circles.

He hadn't seen so much as a glimpse of Dave since they'd been rushed out of the ambulance and taken to their separate rooms on that first night. Dave was quarantined, meaning absolutely no visitors. Even the doctor and nurses selected to attend to him were required to wear surgical masks. All Rimmer had was a blank white door to sit by; knowing that, on the other side, the only thing that had ever given his life meaning was slowly slipping away from him.

As he rounded the corner, he saw something that made him stop in his tracks. The doctor was just coming out of Dave's room, with two nurses _and none of them were wearing masks. _

Rimmer froze. He began to tremble. Surely, it could only mean one thing. _He's gone. _Feeling as stiff and dead inside as a zombie, Rimmer walked over to them. He felt like his knees might buckle at any time and spill him onto the hard, tiled floor. He saw the doctor look up and recognise him. "Dave..." he managed to croak weakly, "Is he...?"

The doctor took him by the arm, "I think you'd better sit down." She gently lowered Rimmer into one of the seats lining the corridor and then sat down beside him. "David took a turn for the worse last night," he heard her say. His brain felt like it was burning. The lights in the ceiling all suddenly seemed too harsh and bright. He couldn't believe this was happening.

"His temperature went back up and he was having trouble breathing," the doctor continued. "We gave him a heavy shot of antibiotics and he seemed to become comatose. Then very early this morning, as one of the nurses checked on him, we realised that his temperature had dropped significantly and his blood pressure was staring to climb again. I ordered some tests and the results have been pretty conclusive. David no longer seems to be contagious and all his vital signs are strengthening. In fact, we're optimistic that he might actually come round properly today and be able to eat something."

Rimmer looked up as her words registered in his already grieving mind. "What?" he said stupidly. The doctor smiled,

"We think last night may have been the virus' last push to try and remain in the body, but Dave seems to have won out. He's better, and getting better by the minute."

"My god..." Rimmer rubbed his face, "I can't believe it." He laughed suddenly as the news started to sink in, "I can't believe it! I thought for sure when I saw you just now..." The doctor smiled and said nothing. "When can I see him?" Rimmer demanded.

"You can see him now as long as you don't wake him up," she said, standing up and retrieving her clipboard from the chair beside her.

She went over to the door and held it open for him. Rimmer stood up and walked over, feeling as though he were being borne along by clouds. Inside the room was a bank of softly bleeping equipment and a long metal bed. And in the bed, tucked among swathes of snowy-white hospital linen, was a small, sleeping figure. "I'll leave you alone for a little while," the doctor said tactfully, "Remember what I said – Don't disturb him."

Rimmer sat down silently next to the bed. Dave looked tired and thin, but Rimmer couldn't have cared less. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and he hadn't set eyes on Dave for almost two weeks. Despite being a little on the peaky side, he still thought he was perfect.


	16. Chapter 16

He sat with him for a good few hours until his stomach started to complain and he was forced to go and find some lunch. Now that he knew Dave was going to be alright, he felt energised and was ready to eat a horse. He had to make do with a slightly rubbery jacket potato from a vending machine in the maternity ward.

When he came back, the doctor was in Dave's room, standing over the bed and talking softly. He was awake! Rimmer hovered in the doorway, unwilling to interrupt, but he didn't have to wait long. The doctor only took a few minutes and then came out with a smile on her face. Rimmer stopped her, "How is he? Is he okay?"

"He's just fine," she said reassuringly, "Tired and weak, but that's to be expected. Good news is he seems alert and aware with no apparent memory loss or confusion. Menfluenza can affect the brain in severe cases, which we did have concerns about, but he seems right as rain."

Rimmer sighed with relief, "When can he leave?"

"Hold your horses there," she told him, "He's doing well, but I'd recommend that he stays in at least another week to recover his strength and stay under observation."

"It's just," Rimmer said wretchedly, "Our ship leaves in three days and I was kind of hoping we'd be able to leave on time. I don't know when the next shuttle out would be, so..."

"You're with the JMC?" the doctor said; "Oh, well, I don't think it should be too much of a problem then. Just wrap him up warm on the way to the shuttle port and make sure he checks straight into the medi-bay once you get onboard. They can take over from there."

"Really?" Rimmer's heart leapt, "You don't think it'll hurt him to come back?"

"Like I said," she reiterated, "Keep him warm and make sure he goes straight back to bed and you should be fine. And try and get to the shuttle port in good time. No getting there late and having to run around at the last minute, you hear? He's got to take it easy. Get there early and have a bite to eat or something."

"Marvellous," Rimmer beamed, "Thank you, doctor."

"You're welcome."

He went back into Dave's room. He'd fallen asleep again and Rimmer felt a tug of disappointment, but he knew it was important that he rested. They would only let Rimmer take him out if they were sure he was well enough for the journey; which meant that over the next couple of days he would need all the rest he could get. He bent over to give him a kiss on the forehead.

Maybe - just maybe – things were going to work out for them after all.


	17. Chapter 17

Rimmer spent the next day shopping for some things they were going to need. He resisted going in to see Dave, thinking it would be best to give him a full day to recover and, when he finally went in the day after, Dave was well and truly awake. He was lying down, but his eyes were open and they widened in surprise when he saw Rimmer. "Arnie?"

"Hi, there," Rimmer smiled, sitting down beside him. He'd slept well for the first time in ages and was feeling unbelievably good. He had a large carrier bag with him that he set down at his feet.

"How did you know I was here?" Lister asked, bewildered, sitting up weakly in bed.

"Because I brought you in," Rimmer told him matter-of-factly. He propped the pillows up behind his back for him so he could rest comfortably against the headboard. "Those gits back at...your place...had no idea how sick you were. I made them call an ambulance."

"They let you into the boss's area to see me?" Dave seemed impressed.

"I told them I was a doctor," Rimmer smiled.

"Are you?"

"No. But it worked."

He rummaged in the bag and brought out, with a hint of embarrassment, a fluffy teddy-bear. "Here. It's a get well present," he said awkwardly. Dave took it with a smile and tucked into the bed beside him, "Aw, cheers, man. He's adorable."

"I should be mad at you," Rimmer told him, mock-sternly, "You nearly blew the whole plan."

"Oh, yes, the master plan," Dave said with a smile, "How's that coming along?"

"It's complete," Rimmer told him, "All it needs is for you to come with me when I pick you up tomorrow."

"Are you serious?" Dave asked, blinking incredulously.

"Absolutely," Rimmer said, "It's all sorted. That is..." he faltered, "If you actually want to come with me. I mean, I realise we haven't known each other long, and it must be difficult for you to trust me, but I swear to you I would never..."

"Hey, hey," Lister put a hand on his arm to quiet him, "I want to come with you," he said earnestly.

"Really?" Rimmer smiled hopefully.

"Really. I want out, man. I don't want to spend the rest of my life in...that place. And if it's true that you brought me here and saved my life, then, yes; I trust you."

"Then I won't let you down," Rimmer said, squeezing his hand.

He picked up the bag by his feet and pulled out a long-sleeved t-shirt, a thick sweater, a jacket and a scarf. "These are for you. The doctor says you have to keep warm when we get out of here, and I intend to see you do. When I brought you in, you were only wearing a thin t-shirt and jeans so I thought you'd need some more stuff."

"Thanks," Dave said, obviously touched. He rubbed his cheek against the sweater, "Mmm, this is really soft. I can't remember the last time I had anything this nice." Rimmer beamed with pride. He hadn't actually picked the clothes, he had no idea about what was fashionable right now, but the woman in the shop had been very helpful.

Dave looked at the tag, "Size 15? Do you think I'm fat or something?"

"I got them big so they'll be warmer. I couldn't find any gloves, so I thought you could pull the sleeves down over your hands."

"Okay, I'll forgive you. Are you going to tell me what the plan is?"

"The plan is for me to pick you up here tomorrow at 12pm. I'll fill you in on the details then. We might have to make some last minute changes, depending on how lucky we are."

"Are you expecting things to go wrong?" Dave asked warily.

"You should always expect things to go wrong," Rimmer told him, "That way you'll be prepared if they do."

"And are you prepared?"

"I think so. We'll find out tomorrow."


	18. Chapter 18

At eleven-fifty the next morning, a hopper drew up outside the main entrance of the hospital. As he climbed out, Rimmer leaned over to say something to the driver, who nodded and drove away.

Lister was sitting in one of the hard plastic chairs outside his room, bundled up in his new jacket and holding the bear Rimmer had bought for him. He smiled when he saw Rimmer coming down the corridor. A small part of him had still been concerned that this might all be some elaborate trick and that he might not show up. "You ready to go?" Rimmer asked, as soon as he reached him.

"I think so."

"Where's your scarf?"

"In the bag," Lister gestured to the carrier bag at his feet that Rimmer had left for him the day before. "Put it on. It's cold outside and you're still not completely well."

"Yes, mum," Lister smiled, fishing it out and wrapping it round his neck.

"Right," Rimmer adjusted it slightly, "Let's get going then."

After a few minutes of walking along various corridors, Lister felt compelled to speak. "Er...Arn? The exit's the other way."

"We're not going out the main door," Rimmer told him. He'd done a circuit of the hospital the night before to find another way out and was now leading Lister down to the A&E and the ambulance bay. "Why?" Lister asked.

"Because your friend Charlie is waiting outside in the car park, eager to take you home," Rimmer told him, "And we don't want to bump into him. We're sneaking out the back."

"How did they know I was being discharged today?" Lister was startled.

"They don't know," Rimmer assured him, "He's been out there keeping an eye on the place ever since you were brought in."

"I should have known," Lister said glumly. Rimmer reached over and squeezed his hand, "Don't think about it. You never have to see him again."

Once they reached the ambulance bay they made their way out between the bustling vehicles and down to the bottom of the drive. Just outside the open gate was a hopper waiting in the lane, right where Rimmer had instructed. They clambered in and Rimmer slammed the door shut behind them. "Ready to drive on?" the cabbie asked cheerfully.

"Yes, thank you," Rimmer called to him. They buckled themselves in and the hopper sprang off down the road.

"Where are we going?" Dave asked, with a hint of anxiety.

"The shuttle port," Rimmer told him.

"But," Lister protested, "I don't have a passport. How can...?"

"Oh yes you do," Rimmer interrupted. He unzipped the bag stowed in the luggage compartment and pulled out the documents. He handed them to Dave, who stared at them in disbelief. "You are also a fully-registered crew member of the JMC vessel _Red Dwarf_.Which is leaving in about," he checked his watch quickly, "Two hours."

"I don't believe it," Dave whispered, astounded. He studied the passport, "How did you...?" Rimmer smiled and put a secretive finger to his lips,

"Never mind that now."

Dave shook his head, "I can't get over this, man," he said weakly.

"Don't get too excited," Rimmer told him, "You're only a third technician, and I'm afraid the ship doesn't stop at Earth for another two years yet, but...well, let's just say I did the maths and if you'd carried on the way you were, you'd still have been stuck in that dump twenty years from now. This seemed like a better deal. You get room and board, and salary is 12k a year; so if you save up you'll be able to find yourself a place to rent as soon as you get home. Oh and er..." Rimmer looked down, slightly embarrassed, "I've arranged for us to share a room. No funny business, you understand," he said quickly, "Just so you'll have someone you know around while you get used to the place and make some friends..."

For Dave, the situation hadn't quite sunk in yet. "But what about Rudolph?...And Charlie...?" he said, sounding dazed. "What if they come looking for me?"

"With any luck we'll be out of orbit and on our way before they even realise you've checked out of the hospital," Rimmer said soothingly. "There's nothing back there you need is there?"

"No. All I had was some clothes and a rolled-up sock with forty quid in it. They can have them."

"Good. Then we can be on our way. It's another twenty minutes yet, so settle down and try to rest. Doctor's orders."

"You're not a doctor, remember?" Dave teased.

"No. But I am your superior officer now, so do what you're told. Get some rest."

"Yes, Sir." Dave rested his head on his shoulder and closed his eyes.


	19. Chapter 19

As usual, the shuttle-port was a buzzing hive of activity. There were people going in every direction and constant announcements in about a million different languages wherever you turned. Rimmer felt Dave press close to his side, slightly overwhelmed, and frowned when he felt him shivering. "Come on," he said decisively, "Let's get checked in. It'll be warmer once we go through to the lounge and we can find somewhere to sit down and have lunch. You need to keep your strength up."

At the desk, he found himself holding his breath once more as they checked Dave's passport. Once again, his fears were unfounded. The man behind the desk stamped his boarding papers cheerfully, "New recruit, eh?"

"Yeah," Dave said simply.

"Show 'em the stamp at the gate and they'll wave you straight through. They'll know you won't have a proper ship-issue ID yet, so don't worry if everyone else seems to have one."

"Okay. Cheers," Lister said, smiling weakly.

They found a small cafe that smelled of coffee and chocolate brownies and found a table near the heater. After a bowl of hot soup and a toasted sandwich, Rimmer was relieved to see Dave starting to look less peaky. "You feeling okay?" he checked, just to make sure. Dave smiled and nodded,

"I'm fine. Just a bit tired."

"You still have to go the medi-bay once we get on board."

"I know, I know."

They wandered out to the long rows of cushioned seats found in all airport or space terminals; the ones that are required by law to have a family with a crying baby and way too much luggage and at least one drunk guy somewhere in the mix. They found themselves some space and sat down. They had another forty-five minutes before they had to board the shuttle so Dave stretched out along the empty seats and nestled his head in Rimmer's lap for a snooze. Rimmer found himself wishing for a moment that the shuttle would never come.


	20. Chapter 20

The shuttle did come; and Lister and Rimmer boarded without any trouble. On the way up to the ship, Dave started shivering again. Rimmer took off his own jacket and wrapped it round him as an extra layer but it didn't do much good. By the time the shuttle docked, Rimmer was desperate to get him to the medi-bay. As soon as they'd been ticked off the register as having arrived, Rimmer marched him down to see the doctor.

They took his temperature, peered down his throat, felt his glands, prodded his joints and came to the conclusion that he was not in any danger of a relapse; he was just tired and needed a least one week's bed-rest before starting his duties. Rimmer was instructed to take him back to their quarters and make sure he drank lots of fluids, preferably hot lemon and things of that nature.

They took the lift back up to their floor and Rimmer showed him the way through the maze of corridors to their room. "Well, here it is," he said unnecessarily as they reached the door. It whooshed open and they stepped inside. Lister looked round and Rimmer suddenly felt embarrassed at how empty and spartan the place looked. Why hadn't he put up more photos? More posters? Hell, even a vase of flowers? He felt like he'd just walked in on a past life – a life where he'd had no happiness, no sense of comfort and worst of all no hope. Walking into this room and seeing how literally empty his life had been made him realise more than anything else just how much meeting Dave had changed him as a person.

"I'm sorry," he stammered, "It's a bit miserable, isn't it? We'll do the place up a bit one you're feeling up to it. Get some rugs or something..."

"Arn," Dave said with a wobbly smile, "I've spent the last three months sleeping in a dormitory with six other guys and the sounds of people fucking coming through floor, ceiling and all four damn walls! In comparison this is a palace!" He looked around again, "Fish would be nice though. We should get some fish."

"Whatever you want," Rimmer said, relieved. Dave turned round to look at him and Rimmer was alarmed to see his eyes were welling up. Before he could ask what was wrong, Dave had put his arms up around his neck and was weeping softly, "Thank you," he said, sniffling, "Thank you so much." And he kissed him.

The moment was so sweet, so wonderful, that for a moment Rimmer was lost. But eventually, he took Dave gently by the arms and reluctantly moved him away. "You don't have to do that," he said sadly, "I told you, remember? No funny business. I did all this because I wanted to. You don't have to pay me back; especially not like this. You're no-one's whore now."

"I know," Dave wiped his eyes, "But I want to. I know I told you I wasn't gay and everything but...n...n...nobody's ever been this kind to me." His voice wavered and he swallowed hard, "No-one's ever made me feel this special. And that means more to me than all the women I've ever been with in my life." Rimmer decided not to ask how many that was. "You told me the only reason you wouldn't sleep with me was because you knew I didn't want it. But I do want it now. Not as your rent-boy, or in return for anything, just as someone you care about. I want to be your boyfriend."

Rimmer couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "Dave," he said weakly, "That's a big decision to make for someone who's tired and ill and very, very emotional right now. I'd like to say yes, believe me; I'd like that more than anything. You know I'm crazy about you. But I don't want you to do anything you'll regret."

"I won't regret this. I've been thinking about it ever since you came to me at the hospital yesterday and I know what I want. I want for us to be together," Dave said resolutely.

Carefully, as though the world might shatter and break around them, Rimmer stepped forward and took Dave in his arms. "I want that too," he whispered to him, "I've wanted that from the moment I first laid eyes on you. But you know what?"

"What?" Dave asked, looking up at him.

"Don't get me wrong. I think you're gorgeous no matter what. But you need to put on some weight. That's the deal," he said as Dave laughed, "If we're going to do this, then you need to start eating properly again."

"You know, this is the thinnest I've ever been," Dave replied, mock-indignant, "I was quite proud of that!"

"To hell with thin," Rimmer replied defiantly, "You looked better before. What's your favourite food?"

"I quite like curry," Dave said hopefully.

"Then that's what we'll have tonight. As a celebration of your recovery."

"So...we're doing this then?" Dave asked hopefully. Rimmer kissed his nose,

"We're doing this. But if you change your mind...at any time..."

"I won't. I promise."

"Let me finish. I was going to say, if you change your mind, I'm going to kill you. I don't think I could handle it if you broke my heart." Dave smiled,

"So in summary – eat more, don't break heart. Right?"

"Right."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"I need to make up some rules for you."

"Okay."

"I think..." Dave pondered, "Yours should be to smile more. Other than that, same goes. Don't break my heart."

"I didn't know I could," Rimmer raised his eyebrows.

"You could," Dave said seriously.

"I won't."

"Neither will I."


	21. Epilogue

Epilogue...

They got the cat because they couldn't have children. It was as simple as that. They had wanted something that could be theirs; something that they could love and care for together.

They hadn't planned it. It was just that when they'd walked past the pet shop on Titan, enjoying some time on shore leave, there had been the little black cat sitting in the window, staring out at them with its huge blue eyes. Dave had fallen in love with it immediately and Rimmer, who had never been able to deny the love of his life anything he really wanted – and had also felt the pangs of their inability to have kids together more than he would ever admit – had suggested the scheme.

They had smuggled their treasure aboard in Dave's jacket and made up a cosy bed for her in the air vents; and for four months they had lived together as a happy family in their sleeping quarters without any worries. Until Holly detected the cat's presence and informed the captain.

They had explained their situation. The captain had sympathised. But it didn't change anything. The choice remained the same; give up the cat or face the stasis punishment. Naturally, they had refused to hand over the animal that had, in all respects but the actual, become their baby. They knew Frankie had the run of the air vents and would have no problem foraging food from the stores or even killing any rats she found along her way. They stood their ground.

As Todhunter had escorted them down the corridor to face their punishment, Rimmer had requested that they be allowed to share the same booth. Todhunter wasn't a bad guy and had actually felt that in the circumstances the captain had been too harsh. Personally he couldn't see why they couldn't keep their pet, seeing as it was healthy and not a threat to anyone. Therefore, even though it was technically against regulations, he granted Rimmer's request.

As the door had hissed shut behind them, Lister had looked up at him anxiously. "Do you think she'll be alright?" he'd asked anxiously, "Do you think we did the right thing?"

"I'm sure of it," Rimmer replied, "She'll be just fine. Once we get out of here we'll just rattle her food bowl and I bet you she'll come running; looking as round and happy as when we left her. Don't worry about it." He wrapped his arms around him and held him close, "Don't worry about a thing."

It was an embrace that would last three million years.....

THE END


End file.
